Together - Now, Always and Forever
by SuNRisESuNSeT96
Summary: What if Regulus told Sirius about his discovery? What if Sirius helped him? What if? What if? Written for the Completely AU/AR Competition!


Harry Potter does not belong to me and anything you can recognize is clearly copied and not mine as well. I cannot take any credit.

Written for the Completely AU/AR Competition

**Together – Now, Always and Forever**

**I**

The night was warm and dark. No sound was heard; even the wind wasn't blowing with its soft and familiar _woosh, woosh _sounds. The animals knew better than to make any noise, lest they wanted their prey or predator hear them. The meadow was quiet on that warm summer night and little did it know (for it was a meadow not a living, thinking thing) that on its grounds the course of the world would be changed forever.

"_Kee wick. Kee wick_," a tawny owl flew by and landed on the highest branch of an old nut tree. Its branches so long and thick that they somehow managed to threw shadows on the ground.

The owl seemed to be finished resting and was just about to sweep up again when a figure appeared. For some reason the bird did not leave its place and so, had it been a human, it would have witnessed the beginning of a new age. But, as it was already said, it was just a tawny owl that for some reason had halted its hunt.

The figure stood at the middle of the greensward and kept looking around. He, for it could not be a she, was nervous, so nervous that he kept jumping every couple of seconds, probably scared of the shadows and the sounds in his head.

A loud _crack_ echoed and several meters before the man another one appeared. He too wore black, or some other dark color, cloak but had left his face uncovered. The weak moonlight illuminated his face for a second and made his aristocratic features seem sharper and his already pale skin almost silver; grey eyes looked ethereal. His face was twisted into an ugly sneer and looked as if he would rather be anywhere but there.

"Sirius," the other breathed with relief. From its place on the old walnut's branch, the owl could not see his face; it could only guess how it looked like at that moment.

"Regulus," the one called Sirius nodded curtly, his voice cold and harsh. "You wanted me to come, so I came. What is it that you want?"

Regulus hesitated for a long moment. He was trembling and fidgeting. For the briefest moment his had turned and a face similar, but not yet the same looked at the tree. It looked younger, though. It was the face of a scared boy, not of a grown man.

The other, it seemed, was losing what little patience he had come with.

"Either talk or I'm leaving!" the boy jumped, seemingly frightened of the loud and sudden voice. "Or are you waiting for your Death Eater friends, so you can kill me?"

"No!" Regulus (who kept clenching and unclenching his fists) violently shook his head. "It's not like that! I, I…" he was unable to continue and his head was turned right.

"You, you… what?" Sirius demanded impatiently. "And do stop biting your lip it's unbecoming," he added offhandedly as if out of habit. The younger one stood still for a while before a snort escaped him. It soon turned into laughter and even Sirius' mask flattered a little and a small smile appeared for a second. It soon left his face and it became cold and guarded again.

"I need your help," it was said flat and emotionless.

"I figured that much, since you called me here," the elder spread his hands as if to prove a point. His tone was calm now and lacked the scorn from before. "Why should I help you?"

"Because you're my brother?" it was more of a question than a statement and Sirius caught it as well.

"Are you telling me or asking me? Never mind," he waved a hand, "it doesn't matter. You said it yourself, remember, we are not family."

"I was wrong, okay! Is that what you wanted to hear?" Regulus was screaming now. And gesturing. And shaking. "That once again I made a bad decision because I didn't listen to you and now I need your help," here his voice broke for a second. He swallowed and his hands fall to his sides. His hutched figure looked exhausted.

"I need your help, Sear," he pleaded. "Please, in the name of what we once shared, help me. Please!"

That seemed to take all of his power and Regulus staggered. Before he fell, however, two strong hands clasped his shoulders and helped him stand.

"Sear?" a mere whisper, so broken and so, so sad. Instead of answering Sirius embraced him. His right hand was stroking Regulus' hair, while the left kept him closer. Slowly, so very slowly the lifted his hands and griped Sirius' shirt.

His soft sobs were the only sound heard on that warm summer night.

_"I've got you mon pettit roi, I've got you."_

**II**

It has been awhile since Kreacher last saw Master Sirius. And it has been even longer than that since he last saw him with Master Regulus. He didn't like it, not one bit. Master Sirius always made Master Regulus sad or got him in trouble. When Master Sirius left (and oh, how he broke poor Mistress heart, he did) Master Regulus was not himself for months. Actually, he hadn't been himself since then. He got _that_ mark, closed off, and almost never smiled sincerely. Then he gave Kreacher to the Dark Lord and Kreacher was in so much pain and the things he saw! No, he won't think about that, because even thinking about it hurts.

It is not Kreacher's place to judge wizards, he is just a house-elf after all, but Kreacher thinks that Master Sirius is a Bad boy. The way he treated Mistress and Master Orion and Master Regulus, it is unforgivable. And now, he is here and is touching Master Regulus so familiarly (and he lost that right when he left) and is glaring at poor Kreacher when Kreacher wants to rightfully tell him off. No, Kreacher does not like Master Sirius, but Master Regulus told him to be respectful and Kreacher is a good elf and does what his Master tells him to do.

Bad Master (because that is respectful enough, Kreacher thinks) is holding Master Regulus and is running his hand up and down his back whispering something in his ear and Master Regulus is crying and Kreacher knows it's Bad Master's fault. It always is. Mistress says so.

"I'm scared Sear," says Master Regulus and Kreacher cannot believe his ears. Master Regulus is so brave, how can he be scared?

"Don't be, little brother, everything will be fine. I promise," Bad Master's voice is gentle and soft, not his usual brash and loud. He is also nice to Master Regulus and Kreacher cannot remember the last time he was. "I'll help you. I'll go to the cave and you will stay here, safe," the cave? Does Bad Master means _that_ cave, the one with the not-dead bodies and drink that gives pain and nightmares. How would Bad Master know of it? Did Master Regulus told him? Why? He told Kreacher not to tell anyone (and Kreacher didn't), why would he tell Bad Master?

"NO!" Bad Master made Master Regulus angry, as usual. "We will go together."

"No, Reg," Bad Master is still speaking gently and is not letting go of Master Regulus. "It's too dangerous; I'm not letting you come," Bad Master kisses Master Regulus on the forehead like he used to before he went to Hogwarts and become a Bad Boy and whispers 'sorry' before he murmurs a spell and Master Regulus fells in his arms. Kreacher wants to scream for help or do anything but Master Regulus told him not to, so Kreacher stays in his place and does nothing as he watches Bad Master lay Master Regulus on the bed and stands up.

"Kreacher," his voice is like the one Master Orion uses when he wants something from Kreacher. Kreacher doesn't think he likes Bad Master looking like Master Orion.

"Master Sirius," he crooks and bows. Master Regulus told him to be obedient and polite too.

"I want to take me to the cave Vol, no, the Dark Lord took you and get me to that cup," Bad Master doesn't understand what he is asking of Kreacher but Kreacher is not going to tell him. He made Master Regulus cry and then put him to sleep against his wishes. He deserves to cry as well.

"Do you understand?" Bad Masters asks and Kreacher nods. Of course Kreacher does, it is Bad Master who doesn't.

"Does Master Sirius want to go now?"

"Yes!" Bad Master is angry and worried, Kreacher can tell. He keeps glancing at Master Regulus and bends and kisses his forehead again.

"Forgive me, little brother," he turns toward Kreacher and tells him to take him to the cave know. Bad Master does not use the same gentle tone with Kreacher. Bad Master has never liked Kreacher.

* * *

The one thing Kreacher remembers clearly is Bad Master looking at him with his grey eyes and telling him to take the locket and tell Master Regulus that Bad Master has always loved him and was never mad at him. Then Bad Master drinks the goblet in one swift motion and tears gather in his eyes. Kreacher keeps making him drink the bad water and Bad Master is begging him not to do it but Bad Master ordered him not to stop before that. And Kreacher is a good house-elf and does what he is told to and does not enjoy watching Bad Master cry (well, maybe a little).

"No!" Bad Master is screaming and trashing now. Kreacher spills half of the goblet because of him. "No, Reg, no! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to! Reg! Please, no, Reg!"

"Master Sirius should stay put," Kreacher murmurs and gives him another goblet. "There is not much left, so Master Sirius has to endure it," but Bad Master keeps trashing and screaming and crying and begging Master Regulus who is not here.

Soon there is no more bad water left and Kreacher takes the locked and places Bad Master's on its place. In front of Kreacher the bad water returns it is as if it was never gone.

Then Kreacher hears screams and turns. He sees Bad Master being dragged by the Not-dead bodies under the water. He is looking at Kreacher for help. Kreacher wants to leave him there, he broke Mistress heart and made Master Regulus cry.

But then Kreacher remembers how gentle Bad Master was with Master Regulus and how he didn't make Kreacher drink the bad water and how sad aster Regulus will be, so Kreacher snaps his fingers and the not-dead bodies return to the lake and Bad Master is left alone. Kreacher goes to him and _pops_ them to Master Regulus bedroom.

Bad Master's clothes are in taters and he is all dirty and wet, so Kreacher has to help him bath and change. Bad Master should be thankful that Mistress and Master Orion aren't home, or he will be in trouble.

Bad Master can hardly walk by himself and keeps shivering because of the cold and the pain. Kreacher understands how he feels, so Kreacher doesn't say anything. Kreacher only hopes Master Regulus is happy, because Master Regulus has always been nice to Kreacher.

**III**

Bran 'Lucky' Fleming had always loved the sea. It made him feel calm and the sound of the waves crushing at the rocks was somewhat relaxing. Not many could understand his passion but that was fine. He didn't need them to, he had the sea.

When he had been a young lad of twelve, he had become a grummet at one of the largest fishing boats in the region and since then he had never been far from the sea. Now, almost fifty years later he was a retired fisherman because he could no longer endure long stays on his beloved boat. That storm four years ago had nearly cost him his life and both his wife and physician had forbidden him to sail. It was too dangerous, they said, even for a man half your age.

And so, Bran found himself retired at the age of fifty-eight. Life was so boring and while he loved his grandchildren, he did tire rather easily, so he couldn't play with them anymore. Not how he used to, anyway.

This is way, every morning before dawn and late at night he would walk for hours at the beach, just listening to the sea and remembering the past. In such one night, Bran witnessed a very strange occurrence.

It was early, maybe five in the morning, and Bran had just sat down on the old bench near the dock. He loved it because while he could hear his fellow sailors, they couldn't see or hear him. He was almost invisible. Anyway, the man was listening to the busy sounds of the anglers, when he heard a faint_ crack_ at his left. He turned and saw two male figures in the middle of the deserted beach. They couldn't see him though, they were several meters down and while he had a perfect view of the pair the two didn't even suspect he existed.

They were quite strange. Both wore dark cloaks from very expensive material and old-fashioned shirts. The last time Bran saw this cut was nearly twenty years ago, when some noble or other had come for a visit. There had been many photographers and reporters with him. What were the boys trying to do?

And they were boys. The one who was a little taller and with longer hair was also the elder of the two, but he couldn't have been more than twenty years old. The younger was a couple of inches shorter and his hair only brushed his shoulders. He was schoolboy without a doubt.

Also, they were related. Bran prided himself for being able to tell when two or more people had any sort of blood connection and those two definitely did. The same straight poses, the same black silky hair and the same pale skin. Brothers, yes, they were brothers.

"I don't want to leave," Bran could clearly hear their voices because of his position. Well, he thought it was because of it, though he could never say how exactly it helped. He just knew it did. How many conversations had he listened to that way? Not that it was intentional, of course.

The younger sounded like his eldest granddaughter, Merry, when she complained about not wanting to do her chores. She always did them, though, just like this boy was going to go wherever he had to.

"I don't want you to either," the other said unhappily. He draped his left hand around his brother's shoulders and pulled him closer. "But you have to Reg. It's not safe for you anymore."

"I now that!" the younger boy – Reg – sounded annoyed. "That doesn't mean I have to like it," Bran could literally hear the pout in his voice

"No, I guess you don't," the other said with amusement. It sounded slightly forced, though. As if he wanted the situation to get funnier but knew, it couldn't. He turned his head to face Reg and kissed his bow. "Promise you'll be alright. You will stay out of trouble and be careful."

"Don't worry Sear, I promise," he hugged his brother tightly and they stayed like that for almost a minute when the younger pulled back. "Goodbye brother," and he spun around. A second later, with a _crack_, he was gone. Bra couldn't believe his eyes.

He was still frozen in shock when he heard Sear's next words.

"Farewell, mon petit roi. May Morgana look after you," and he too spun and disappeared with a _crack_.

Later, when he would go home for breakfast and his wife would ask him if anything interesting happened on the docks, he would say no and calmly take another sip of his tea, for there was nothing to tell. He had either imagined the whole incident or his retirement was getting to him and was messing with his head.

**IV**

Sothis Leo Black was generally considered a rather smart child. He was barley eleven but he was already fluent in three languages, could count better than his peers and, most of all, he was observant. That also made him very, very curious. By the age of eight the young Black already knew his home like the back of his hand (and they lived in a large three store mansion-like house), which was not a small feet.

So, it should not have come as surprise to his Papa when he cough him eavesdropping on a what seemed an important conversation. In Sothis' defense, the stranger had come in the middle of the night and he really wanted know who he was. Then Mamma and Papa had been talking in hushed voices and all seemed very mysterious. Not that he found out that night.

Sothis was about a foot from the massive door of Papa's study when it swung open and Papa stepped out. The young Black had never seen him in such a state. Leo Black was usually calm, reserved and with a small smile on his youthful face. Hs dark eyes and long black hair pulled back in a ponytail made him look like a prince from a fairytale, like the one Mamma used to read to him when he was younger. It was about a brave prince who saved the princes from the Muggles who were trying to burn her on the stake for being a witch. Sothis had always liked that story because the prince on the picture looked like Papa and in his childish mind that had made Papa a prince.

But that night he didn't look like one. His silky hair wasn't implacably combed and tied back, it was messy and more than a few strands had broken free from the leather strap that Papa used. His face was paler than usual and he looked troubled. There was something in his eyes, though, that made Sothis go away without much protest. It was hope. For what, though, the young Black heir silently vowed to find out one way or another.

/Line break/

The week that followed was the strangest one in Sothis' life. He was allowed to visit his friends but they were not to come with him and nor was he allowed to talk about that night and the stranger. Papa didn't attend meals and try as he might, the boy couldn't get an answer from Mamma. She just smiled in her 'you-are-too-young' way and told him not to pry.

There was something different in her too. Evangeline Black was a beautiful woman, full of laugh and smiles, but there was always something sad in her. Sothis had never been able to put his finger on it, but from time to time, for as long as he remembered, she would stop doing whatever she'd had been working on and just stare at one point for a few moments, a sad look on her face, before she'd snap out of it and carry on.

Now, she looked happier in an almost scared way. Like she feared that whatever had been making her happy would disappear. Very often, Mamma would look at him and smile at some thought. She truly looked beautiful in those moments. Her azure eyes would light up and even the sky paled in comparison to them. Evangeline was the most beautiful and strong and smart woman in Sothis' mind. When he'd told Papa of that the man had smiled, ruffled his light brown hair (only a shade or two darker than Mamma's) and agreed with him.

It was exactly six days since Sothis last saw Papa when he joined them for dinner. He looked like he always did, calm and regal. A weight Sothis hadn't known was there seemed to have disappeared and when he nodded at Mamma she smiled brightly. Leo had then proceeded to kiss her deeply and Sothis had to look away, his face scarlet.

"There is someone I want you to meet son," Papa had told him during desert. "Someone, who will be staying with us for the rest of the summer and maybe even longer than that. I want you to promise never to reveal to anyone about his whereabouts. Understood," Sothis nodded quickly before adding a "Yes, Papa." Leo Black hated nonverbal answers. He believed them to be rude.

"Who is he, Papa?" his natural curiosity got the better of him, but Papa didn't seem to mind it this time.

"He is my brother, your uncle, and the man who saved my life," Leo answered solemnly. Sothis was dumbstruck. He had of course known he had a paternal uncle, he was named after him apparently, but he had always thought him to be dead. The look Papa would get whenever he asked about him had made him believe that Uncle Sear had passes away.

"I don't understand," the boy admitted. If his uncle had been alive all this time, why hadn't he come to visit them? Papa loved him, Sothis was sure of that. The way he spoke of his brother, the voice he used, it was the same when he talked about Mamma.

"I know you don't. It is a long and complicated story, one I wished you never had to learn. I guess I have to start from the day I was born…" and Papa told him the most amazing story. How his true name was Regulus Arcturus Black, the second son of Walburga and Orion Black and younger brother of Sirius Orion Black (the infamous mass murderer that had managed to escape Azkaban). How he had gone to Hogwarts and then became a Death Eater. How he discovered a dangerous secret and how Uncle Sear (no _Sirius_, Uncle Sirius) had helped him and faked his death, and created Leo Alphard Black, the only son and heir to Alphard Back (who had been disowned for reasons unknown outside of the family) from a pureblood witch from a minor family.

By the end of the story, Sothis didn't know in what to believe anymore his entire life had been a lie. His father was a criminal (but then again, most Dark wizards and witches were not exactly pure as snow), his mother had know the entire time and his uncle, who was in the house, was the notorious mass murderer.

"He didn't kill them," Papa said quietly. Sothis looked up from his empty plate at which he had been unconsciously staring bewildered. "Sear," Papa explained sensing his confusion. "He didn't kill the Muggles or Pettigrew."

"How do you know that?" the boy asked angrily. He had been lied his entire life, he deserved to be angry and no reprimanding looks from his parents would make him ashamed. "Did he tell you?"

"Yes."

"And you believed him?" Sothis exclaimed incredulously. Was Papa stupid? How could he believe a probably mad mass murderer?

"Yes!" Leo, no Regulus, snapped. "He is my brother and the story didn't make much sense in the first place," he sighed and started massaging his temple with his index and middle fingers. "I know it's a lot to take in, son, but you have to understand. I made some bad decisions when I was younger and I am not proud of it. If it wasn't for Sirius, right now I would probably be a decaying corpse in a cave," Sothis shivered, he didn't want to picture that. Papa, even if he was a liar, was Papa and he was not supposed to die, ever.

"That time," Regulus continued with a faraway look in his eyes. "It was not safe. You didn't know who to trust, you didn't know if you'd survive the next day. When it was over, everybody just wanted to put it all behind them. Many people were thrown in Azkaban without trials, including Sirius. He was Black, how could he not have been a Death Eater," at this Papa smiled bitterly. "Why bother with a trial at all. Or a bloody hearing?!" Sothis had never seen Papa so angry and sad at the same time. He could understand, sort of.

"Calm down," Mamma said and placed her hand on top of Papa's. "He's not there anymore. He is here and safe."

"But not fine. Sear, how can he ever recover from Azkaban, Eva?"

"How could he escape from that place? I don't think there is anything Sirius Black cannot do," Papa let out a short laugh at that.

"So, would you like to meet him some day? After you'd processed all of this," Regulus asked Sothis. He looked tired , the boy thought, and old. Strange, he had never thought of his father as old. He didn't look a day over his early to mid twenties but now he seemed twice as old.

"Not tonight," the young Black said quietly, trying to sound strong. He couldn't do it tonight, maybe not even tomorrow night.

"No," his father agreed. "But some other day?" he asked hopefully.

"Yes. I will."

* * *

Several days after that dinner, Sothis finally gathered the courage to meet with his uncle. Well, to be truthful, his curiosity yet again won the battle against his common sense. Anyway, for the first time in days Sothis left his chambers and went to his father's study.

Ever since he learnt the truth, he had been avoiding his parents and friends, preferring the privacy of his rooms to any human company. The elves brought him food four times a day and cleaned up during the night but that was all. Papa and Mamma had tried to talk him out of his self-enforced exile but they had given up after he refused to answer them.

Sothis stood in front of the door he had always found so intimidating and nervously smothered some non-existent wrinkles on his summer tunic. It was the latest fashion, faded blue color with many spirals in different shades of blue. It was supposed to represent the Mediterranean Sea, but like most males, Sothis couldn't quite figure out how.

The Black heir took a deep calming breath, stood a little straighter and knocked on the door. After a long silence he was about to do so again or just turn around and leave but Papa's voice called him to come in.

Sothis opened to mahogany door and entered the room. Papa's study was not a place he frequented often. It always made him feel guilty of something (mostly because he had been called there for scolding) and intimidated. In the room, Papa seemed more like the cold King, rather than the Prince from the stories.

As soon as he entered, Sothis looked around. The study was a medium large room with a desk, a chair behind it, a couch and many, many bookcases with the kind of books he was forbidden from touching and reading. There was a large fireplace, which was always burning, even in the summer. Like it was now. Sothis had always found to sound of burning wood kind of soothing. In the winter, when it was the coldest, he would spent hours sitting next to the fireplace in the drawing room reading a book and listening to his mother playing the grand piano they had.

The thick curtains were pulled and the afternoon sun lighted the room. From his position Sothis could see the backyard with its pond and trees and alleys and benches. It was obvious why Papa had chosen this room for his study.

There was one thing out of order though. That was the man sitting on the sofa and sipping from his tea. He had obviously seen better days. He was thin, so very thin, almost a skeleton. His black hair hung around his face lifelessly; his startling grey eyes look haunted. His skin was more yellow than white and there were worry lines all over his bony face.

Despite all of that he stood straight in the elegant way possessed only by those of high status. His chin was lifted and his lips had formed a small smile. That man (and Sothis was sure that it was Uncle Sirius) had once been very handsome and even now he didn't look all that bad. Several months of rest and good food would perhaps bring back his good looks. However, Sothis didn't think that anything could make the haunted look go away.

"Son," Regulus Black brought his attention back to him. He was smiling and was happy, the boy realized, very happy. "This is my brother Sirius. Sear, this is my son, Sothis."

"It it a pleasure to make your acquaintance sir," the boy said and gave a half-bow.

"The pleasure is all mine," his Uncle extended his right hand and Sothis shook it. For someone who looked more like a skeleton than a man, Sirius Black had a surprisingly strong grip. "Don't call me sir, though, it makes me feel old," he added with a genuine smile.

"You are old," Regulus piped in from his place behind the desk. Uncle Sirius shot him an annoyed look and run his left hand through his hair.

"Not that old. You're the one with a perfectly mannered offspring. You can relax you know," he turned to Sothis with a grin. "I don't bite, I promise."

"He just barks," Papa said with a matching grin. They did look a lot like each other: black hair, high cheekbones, same noses and the same manners. Even the mock glare Uncle Sirius sent Papa was like the one Papa used on Sothis when had done something amusing that shouldn't be amusing.

Perhaps he wasn't that scary or bad. The boy decided to give a chance to his uncle and he might, might not stay mad at his parents for much longer.

**V**

The last time Remus Lupin saw Sirius Black was almost thirteen years ago, a week before _that _day. He had looked like he always did. Arrogant, charming, dressed in the finest clothes and most of all, he was relaxed. One thing Remus could never forget was how Black always, always seemed relaxed, calm and perfectly in control. He had attributed this to his upbringing, after all James was more or less the same. Both came from old Houses, with traditions, money and different political affiliations. When they were we still in Hogwarts, Lames ad Black would discuss for hours the latest decision of the Wizengamont or the new party that had been formed and so on. The werewolf could never quite understand them. Actually, more than half of the Gryffindors couldn't.

Anyway, Remus was under the impression that most purebloods acted that way. They seemed to be following some unwritten rule stating that 'one should always appear strong and in control, regardless of the circumstances'.

The believe was strengthened on that summer night when he saw his once best friend for the first time since he was sent in Azkaban. Sirius Black looked every bit as regal and in control as he had during the war. His hair was cut right above his shoulders and was every bit as silky-looking as it was over a decade ago. His face had somehow kept his youthful look; the skin was pale but healthy, Black had no beard or mustache and his lips were curved into the same mocking half-smile that he was so fond of.

He was a bit too thin, his eyes were guarded and haunted, but otherwise with those rich, and obviously expensive robes, Sirius Black looked more like a rich pureblood who had been ill lately, rather than an escaped convict. His posture was relaxed and he was calmly thrilling a wand with his left hand.

The children stood close to the opposite wall and looked ready to run at the first possible moment. Only young Harry seemed thorn between the instinct telling him to flee and the desire to avenge his parents. But it wasn't Black who was responsible about that, was it? The reason Remus had rushed to the Shack was not only to help but to the name, he saw on the old map. Peter Pettigrew.

"We're up here!" a girl's shouts. Remus quickened his already fast step. "We're up here – Sirius Black – QUICK!"

Was it possible? Was he truly alive? And if he was, why had he hid all these years? The only logical conclusion was that he had been the real traitor, not the hero everybody believed him to be. How was that logical though? Remus had to know. And either way, there was no doubt that he was in the presence of Death Eater and a murderer. The question was who the real traitor was.

"Professor, you have to help us!" the girl, Hermione, shouted in despair. "We can't move and…"

"Do shut up," Black interrupted her in a bored voice, like it was some tedious chore to do so, like she was so unimportant that he didn't know why he bothered. He used to use the same tone in Hogwarts with most of the time. It drove most of their classmates mad but one could hardy say something to the Black heir. Even if said heir decides to run away from home and cause the scandal of the century. He and James had found it hilarious. Especially when they'd learnt that Black had not been officially disowned no matter how much Walburga Black had pushed for that.

"Fancy seeing you here, old pal," those words sent shivers down Remus' back. Unlike with Hermione, Black's full-undivided attention was on himself and while the tone seemed perfectly friendly, Remus could sense the undertone. Sirius Black was pissed; he was very pissed, at him. Grey eyes were narrowed and features were hardened.

"You switched, didn't you?" the werewolf asked resigned. There was no other explanation. No matter how far-fetched these one seemed it fit, it fit perfectly with James and Black's personalities.

"Took you long enough," Black (and oh, did he want to call him Sirius) chuckled humorlessly. "For a smart guy, you really are slow sometimes," and while Remus would have taken this as an insult every other time, he paid it no heed. Perhaps he could be forgiven. Oh, how he hoped so!

"Well, I…"

"What are you doing?" Harry screamed. He was desperately trashing against an invisible wall and looking at him with those bright green eyes. the same eyes James had fallen in love with ("Avada Kadavra green, such color does not belong in the Muggle world," he had said in their sixth year and Black (Sirius) had nodded in agreement). "I trusted you and all the while you've been his friend! He is the reason my parents are dead! He…"

"_I_ trusted you!" Hermione shouted above Harry. She had been trying to break free just as desperately but now she had stopped. Her brown eyes were judging and accusing him. She knew. Somehow, this girl had learnt his biggest secret. "I kept you secret and you betrayed us!" she turned to face Harry, her brown hair a mess. "Don't trust him Harry. He is a werewolf and has been plotting with Black to kill you."

The reaction was instantaneous. The young Potter (and he looked so much like his father that it was unreal) froze on his spot. His hands fall limp on his side. He tried to say something but was unable to do so. Those eyes, the pierced his soul and Remus had to look away.

The other boy, Ron, tried to craw closer to the corner. His left leg was twisted in an unnatural way and was probably broken. He was clutching a rat (that looked like Peter's Animagus form) and his blue eyes were wide in fear.

Remus looked at Black but the other man appeared content to sit back and do nothing. He caught Remus' eye and winked at him, an amused smirk on his lips.

"Not at all up to your usual standard, Hermione," he said with forced calmness. "Only one out of three, I'm afraid," here Remus gave a small sad smile. "I have not been in contact with Sirius until tonight and nor do I want Harry dead. I won't deny only one thing. I am a werewolf."

Ron tired to stand up but his leg couldn't support him and fell with a wince. Instinctively Remus step towards him to help but the boy screamed at him not to come any closer.

"How long have you know?" the teacher asked his female student after a long moment of silence. He suspected the answer, of course, but he had to know for sure.

"Ages," Hermione whispered. "Since I did Professor Snape's essay..." he was right then. Severus would be glad to know that someone got the clues.

"He'll be delighted," said Remus coolly. How many student figured it out as well? He didn't want to know. "He assigned that essay hoping someone would realize what my symptoms meant..." Fifteen years had passes and the man still held those childish grudges. "Did you check the lunar chart and realize that I was always ill at the full moon? Or did you realize that the boggart changed into the moon when it saw me?" Knowing her the answer would be…

"Both," Hermione said quietly. Why was he not surprised? Remus forced a laugh.

"You're the cleverest witch of your age I've ever met, Hermione," mostly because she wasn't interested in boys or make-up , or pretty dresses but it would be unwise to tell her that.

"I'm not," Hermione whispered. "If I'd been a bit cleverer, I'd have told everyone what you are!" Oh, you foolish girl.

"But they already know," said Remus. How could they not? Perhaps she wasn't that smart after all. "At least, the staff does."

"Dumbledore hired you when he knew you were a werewolf." Ron gasped. He was still clutching the rat with one hand and his injured leg with the other. "Is he mad?"

"Some of the staff thought so," Severus mostly. Half of them had thought him years ago, when there wasn't a potion that helped him keep his sanity. "He had to work very hard to convince certain teachers that I'm trustworthy -"

"AND HE WAS WRONG!' Harry yelled, louder this time. "YOU'VE BEEN HELPING HIM ALL THE TIME!" Remus was about to say that he was wrong, that he would never do such a thing, when a bored voice took the word.

"Not really," the three children turned to look at the supposed mass-murderer. Sirius smiled at them, showing perfectly white teeth, before continuing. "Up until a few minutes ago, he was under the impression that I was Voldemort's right hand men, a deranged killer with no morals etc. etc.

"Now he is doubtful, but that's beside the point," he even wave his hand a little to make his point. "I didn't contact Remus for help and neither did he offer any. I am perfectly capable of sneaking around Hogwarts on my own," and wasn't that the truth. He pushed himself back from the wall and made a couple of steps towards the kids.

"As I already said, I am not here to kill anyone. So, how about you stop with the theatrics, even if they are terribly amusing, and give me that rat?" he said and held out his hand expectedly. The children stepped back, away from him.

"NO!" the ginger haired boy screamed. "I'm not giving you Scabbers!" he was clutching the rat even tighter against his chest using both hands. Perhaps is was for the best, Remus mused, the rat couldn't run now.

Suddenly there was a loud crack behind them. The bedroom door had open on its own. What was happening?

Sirius was looking at it with confusion as well. He went there and examined it carefully.

"No one is there," he said with confusion.

"This place is haunted," said Ron. Sirius snorted and answered without taking his eyes off the door.

"Don't be ridiculous. Those were just stupid rumors and superstitions of the local people. It was all Remus," then he shrugged as if to say 'whatever' and waved his wand across it, though nothing seemed to happen. He turned to face them.

"Now, kid, the rat," he was getting impatient, Remus could tell.

"No," he stopped his once-friend. "They deserve to know the truth. Harry deserve to…"

"We don't have all night," Sirius cut him off. "You'll be transforming soon and I'd rather get this over sooner rather than later. They'll learn everything later," Remus didn't hear anything after the word 'transform'. No! It was full moon! And he didn't drink the potion! They were all in danger!

"You have to leave!" he said urgently. The students shared his fear but the pureblood seemed unperturbed. "I…"

"You aren't transforming for about an hour or so, don't worry. And I don't need that much time."

Sirius pointed his want at Ron and a second later, the rat was lying on his hand. The man threw it up in the air and whispered a spell, one that Remus was sure was a revealing one.

Before anyone could do or say anything there was a blinding flash of light and then - It was like watching a speeded-up film of a growing tree.

A head was shooting upward from the ground; limbs were sprouting; a moment later, a man was standing where Scabbers had been, cringing and wringing his hands. (An orange animal (which Remus suspected was a cat) was spitting and snarling on the bed; the hair on its back was standing up.)

Peter Pettigrew was a very short man, hardly taller than Harry and Hermione. His thin, colorless hair was unkempt and there was a large bald patch on top. He had the shrunken appearance of a plump man who has lost a lot of weight in a short time. The past thirteen years he had spent living as a rat had left something of the animal to linger around his pointed nose and his very small, watery eyes. No, the years hadn't been kind to him.

"Well, hello, Peter," Remus said pleasantly, still going over the shock that he was alive. Seeing his name on the map was one thing, seeing him in person was another. "Long time no see."

"S - Sirius... R - Remus..." his voice was squeaky, squeakier than before. Obviously, living as a rat hadn't been good for him. Again, his eyes darted toward the door. "My friends... my old friends..." Sirius clenched his fists. Remus could see the white around the bones. Peter was in deep trouble.

The children were looking at Peter with various expressions. Hermione's was unbelieving, Ron's – disgust and Harry's… Harry was completely lost.

"Don't you look just _alive_ tonight, old friend," Sirius wore _that_ smile. The one that meant trouble and Peter knew it.

"Remus," gasped Peter, and Remus could see beads of sweat breaking out over his pasty face, "you don't believe him, do you...?" actually, I do, Peter, I do. "He tried to kill me, Remus..."

"So we've heard,' said Remus, more coldly. It was so hard not let his emotions get the better of him, especially this close to transformation. He hoped Sirius had thought this out. "I'd like to clear up one or two little matters with you, Peter, if you'll be so –"

"He's come to try and kill me again!" Peter (no, _Pettigrew_) squeaked suddenly, interrupting him, pointing at Black, using his middle finger, because his index was missing.

"He killed Lily and James and now he's going to kill me too...You've got to help me, Remus..." Pettigrew continued with his tirade. He looked pathetic…

… and Sirius looked angry, not just pissed like he was with Remus, but downright furious.

"No one's going to try and kill you until we've sorted a few things out," said Remus, trying to calm him down and make him shut up before Sirius' patience ran thin.

"Sorted things out?" repeated Pettigrew, looking wildly about him once more, eyes taking in the boarded windows and, again the only door. "I knew he'd come after me! I knew he'd be back for me! I've been waiting for this for twelve years!" and wasn't that a total load of crap.

"You knew Sirius was going to break out of Azkaban?" Remus pretended to be confused. He even furrowed his brow for good measure. "When nobody has ever done it before?"

"He's got dark powers the rest of us can only dream of!" Pettigrew shouted shrilly. "How else did he get out of there? I suppose He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named taught him a few tricks!" Did he really expected them to believe him? Even the children didn't and they didn't know the whole story.

Sirius started to laugh, a horrible, mirthless laugh that filled the whole room and sent shivers down Remus' back.

"Voldemort, teach me tricks?" he said. Pettigrew flinched as though Black had hit him with a whipping curse. "Why would he do that, when I never JOINED HIM?" shouted Sirius. An ugly sneer appeared on his otherise handsome face.

"What, scared to hear your old master's name?' said Sirius. 'I don't blame you, Peter. His lot aren't very happy with you, are they?"

"Don't know what you mean, Sirius –" muttered Pettigrew, his breathing faster than ever. His whole face was shining with sweat now. It was rather revolting.

"You haven't been hiding from me for twelve years," Sirius continued, the sneer never leaving his face. "You've been hiding from Voldemort's old supporters. I heard things in Azkaban, Peter... They all think you're dead, or you'd have to answer to them... I've heard them screaming all sorts of things in their sleep.

Sounds like they think the double-crosser double-crossed them. Voldemort went to the Potters' on your information... and Voldemort met his downfall there. And not all Voldemort's supporters ended up in Azkaban, did they? There are still plenty out here, biding their time, pretending they've seen the error of their ways. Supporters to whom I am related to, Peter," the sneer turned into a big ugly smile. "If they ever got wind that you were still alive, Peter –" and knowing Sirius he would personally deliver Pettigrew to the worst and then give them pointers.

"Don't know... what you're talking about...," said Pettigrew again, more shrilly than ever. He wiped his face on his tattered sleeve and looked up at Remus.

"You don't believe this - this madness, Remus –"

"I must admit, Peter, I have difficulty in understanding why an innocent man would want to spend twelve years as a rat," said Remus evenly. He took a deep calming breath. Ripping the rat into pieces would serve no one.

"Innocent, but scared!" squealed Pettigrew. Innocent? As if, Remus snorted mentally. "If Voldemort's supporters were after me, it was because I put one of their best men in Azkaban - the spy, Sirius Black!" you never learn, do you?

"How dare you,' Sirius growled, sounding suddenly like the bear-sized dog Remus remembered from his younger years.

"I, a spy for Voldemort? When did I ever sneak around people who were stronger and more powerful than myself?" considering that he among the strongest that wasn't a very good argument. "But you, Peter - I'll never understand why I didn't see you were the spy from the start. You always liked big friends who'd look after you, didn't you? It used to be us... me and Remus... and James..." with a pang Remus recalled the small eleven-year-old boy from his childhood. He hadn't been a coward then? What had happened?

Pettigrew wiped his face again; he was almost panting for breath.

"Me, a spy... must be out of your mind... never... don't know how you can say such a –" he tried to denay but Sirius interrupted him.

"Lily and James only made you Secret-Keeper because I suggested it," the last male Black hissed, so venomously that Pettigrew took a step backward. For a moment Remus could see the similarities between his friend and Bellatrix Lestrange. Pettigrew doubtlessly could do the same, if his paled face was any indication.

"I thought it was the perfect plan... a bluff... Voldemort would be sure to come after me, would never dream they'd use a weak, talentless thing like you..." Sirius' voice was full of scorn and disgust, all directed toward the knelling man.

"It must have been the finest moment of your miserable life, telling Voldemort you could hand him the Potters."

Pettigrew was muttering distractedly; Remus caught words like "far-fetched" and "lunacy." He preferred to pay more attention to the ashen color of Pettigrew's face and the way his eyes continued to dart toward the windows and door. Not that he'd be able to escape.

"Professor Lupin, can I ask something?" Hermione asked timidly. The wall that had been preventing her and the boys from moving around had been dropped and she had stepped a little closer. Her face was pale ad she was biting her lip nervously. She also was very careful not to come near the adults.

"Certainly, Hermione," Remus replied.

"Well - Scabbers - I mean, this - this man - he's been sleeping in Harry's dormitory for three years. If he's working for You-Know-Who, how come he never tried to hurt Harry before now?" Good question.

"There!" said Pettigrew shrilly, pointing at Hermione with his maimed hand. "Thank you!" she stepped back disgusted. "You see, Remus? I have never hurt a hair of Harry's head! Why should I?"

"Why would you?" Sirius asked calmly. He had regained control over his emotions and his face was the same bored mask he wore before. "There was nothing for you to gain from outing yourself, but if you were to hear a rumor about Voldemort's return or something like that, you would have given him Harry without a second thought. And you were in the perfect position to do so."

"Mr. Black, sir," Hermione stared again. Sirius flinched at the address and turned to her with a raised eyebrow. "If you don't mind me asking, how - how did you get out of Azkaban, if you didn't use Dark Magic?" Remus was sure he had used Dark magic. The Black family was not a light one and Sirius was its heir… no, Head.

"Thank you!' gasped Pettigrew, nodding frantically at her. "Exactly! Precisely what I –" but a look from Remus shut him up.

"This is rather complicated," Sirius said. "My believe that I was innocent, mostly, which is hardly a happy thought, and my Animagus form. I could switch forms when the Dementors got too much, so I kept most of my sanity.

"Then, last summer that moron of Minister," and wasn't that the truth, "came for his annual inspection and I asked for the newspaper. He was so shocked at my sanity," he said the word with distaste, "that he gave it to me without much hassle. There was an article about a family that won some prize," here he nodded at Ron, "and a picture of them. Peter was on it. I recognized him instantly. How many times had I seen him transform? And then I realized that he was in the perfect position to act. And only I knew that.

"This thought got into my mind and wouldn't leave. It wasn't a happy thought, it was an obsession. It gave me the strength to fight back against the despair and as a dog I was so thin that one night, when they were bringing me my dinner, I slipped between the bars. The Dementors can't see, so all they could sense was my uncomplicated emotions.

"I swam to the land as a dog and then I left Britain as soon as I could. I had taken precautions, you see, during the war in case I had to leave the country, and went to a safe house. I came back a couple of times, but I mostly stayed on the continent.

"Once was during a game," he turned to Harry and smiled genially, "you fly amazing. Just like your father. You have to believe me, I never betrayed them, I swear," Harry was looking at him for the longest time, silence stretched, and then he nodded.

"NO!" Pettigrew screeched as through Harry's nod had been his death sentence.

"Sirius – please – old friend-" he grabbed the hem of the expensive robes, or tried to. Sirius moved just before he could and sneered at him.

"Those clothes are worth more then your life. I suggest you don't dirty them."

"Remus!" Pettigrew squeaked, turning to Remus instead, writhing imploringly in front of him. "You don't believe this wouldn't Sirius have told you they'd changed the plan?"

"Not if he thought I was the spy, Peter," Remus answered. "I assume that's why you didn't tell me, Sirius?" he said casually over Pettigrew's head, refusing to look at him, at the man responsible for so many deaths.

Sirius shrugged elegantly. "You were the best guess. My apologizes, I hope you can forgive me," that wasn't sincere, not really, Remus knew that, but perhaps in time they could fix their friendship.

"As long as you do the same for me."

"Of course," the smile was genuine this time. Then Sirius looked at the pathetic figure on the dusty floor with disgust and flicked his wand at him. a long pained scream escaped from Pettigrew's mouth and then his figure became limp. He was still breathing though Remus could see that.

"NO!" Harry screamed. "Why did you do that? You didn't have to kill him!"

"But I didn't, I just put him into sleep in a non-gentle way," well that was one way to put it. "Don't worry Harry, I need him alive. Now, let's get out of here kids, before you meet a werewolf."

Suddenly Remus felt ill. How could he forget what night it was? Again! What if something had happened? How could he be so irresponsible? Stupid, stupid, stupid! He should resign, before such thing happen again.

"See you tomorrow," Sirius said with a grin from the doorstep. The children were in front of him and the rat was floating behind him.

Remus could only nod and watch and his friend bend and took something from the ground. In his hand was James' (Harry's now) Cloak and underneath it was the paralyzed body of Severus Snape. So that was the source of the noise from before. Hopefully, Sirius wouldn't do anything stupid.

Soon Remus Lupin knew no more. And once again hollows rocked the Shrieking Shack.

**VI**

_Parry. Thrust. Parry. Attaque au Fer. Step back. Parry. Parry. Thrust. Almost there, almost there…_

"Touché," his godfather's voice announced smugly. Harry scowled and if not for the disappointed look Sirius would surely give him, he would have thrown his _epee_ on the ground in disgust. It wasn't fair, he was so close to landing a hit on Sirius, but he just had to stop him, didn't he?

"Glaring at the blade won't make you a winner Harry," the older man even had the gall to gloat! Harry had to literally bit his tongue to refrain himself from answering in an inappropriate manner. The one time he had dared use a more 'colorful' vocabulary Sirius had spent three hours telling him how using such words was 'not befitting of someone of his social standing' and how 'James would have never tolerated his heir using such foul language'. The whole time Harry had to stay perfectly still and not to roll his eyes in exasperation (which had been the hardest part).

"Now, go change and then we can have a late tea," Sirius patted him on his shoulder and ruffled his hair. Harry schooled his face in an annoyed grimace, but both knew he enjoyed those signs of affection. Growing up with the Dursley, he had never had someone ruffle his hair or pay him even the messiest compliment. "You are getting better. Good job," it was a rather sad fact that those words still sent a warm feeling.

"Couldn't land a hit though, as usual," the words escaped his mouth before he could stop them but Sirius only smiled at him.

"You've only been training for about a month. I have been fencing since I was six. Give it some time pup. We'll go over your faults at tea. Right now, all I can think of is a hot shower."

"It's not like you are sweaty," Harry grumbled, the unspoken 'unlike me' hung in the air. It was true though, Sirius Black was an excellent fencer and Harry couldn't make him break a sweat no matter how hard he tried. It really wasn't fair.

"Appearance can be deceiving, Harry, and looking better than one is, is among the first lessons pureblood children learn. Showing weakness is forbidden, unless it is for one's benefit, of course."

"Of course," he dutifully repeated, not really understanding this little piece of what he had dubbed 'pureblood wisdom'. Sirius only sent him one last amused smile before leaving the dueling room. Harry followed him soon after. Unlike his godfather, he _needed_ a shower. No amount of cooling, preservation and sweat-repelling (yes, those existed) charms could the feeling of being dirty go away.

The trip to his rooms was relatively short. Compared to other places in the Manor that is. While he was washing his hair with some ridiculously expensive shampoo Harry's mind wavered, yet again, to the past month. That summer had been, by far, the best in his life. It could have been better, he supposed, but compared to his life mere weeks prior he would have to be dragged by his hair screaming and kicking to the Muggles.

The first week of the summer vacation had been normal. Uncle Vernon had been holding a grudge on the behave of his sister for the past year and made it clear he wanted Harry out of his sight. Aunt Petunia either glared at him or ignored him, preferring to spend her time fretting over Dudley. Just thinking of his Muggle cousin brought a smile on the teen's lips. Not because of some bonding time they'd shared but because of the memory of his red face (one could use the word scarlet but it wouldn't do justice to the unique shade of red father and son shared when angry, perhaps 'dursley red' would be an appropriate name) when he had learnt that he had to go on a diet. The school nurse had said he weighted as a small whale and that the school was unable to find a large enough uniform for him, since he was (and she had used those exact words) larger then higher. The only downfall had been that Aunt Petunia had announced that the entire house would be going on a diet to support Dudley.

Just as Harry was starting to worry about surviving the summer on scraps and candy (because his friends sent him that when he wrote them about Dudley's 'small' problem) Sirius had appeared on the front door with some papers that needed Aunt Petunia's signature and told Harry to pack his stuff and could he please dress in something else because those rags made him want to vomit.

Less then an hour later, a school-robes-dressed Harry found himself in Black Manor somewhere in Derbyshire. The manor (because calling it a house would be like calling a grey pebble a diamond) was huge. It had four stores, a separate guest house (only three times the house in Private Drive), an empty stable ('Grandmother Melania used to love Pegasi, so Grandfather Arcturus kept about a dozen just for her.') and a park with benches and pavilions and ponds. There was even a Quidditch pitch.

The extravagancy of the façade and the grounds was nothing compared to the Manor itself. There were Merlin knows how many bedrooms and bathrooms, three dining rooms, several drawing rooms, a _ballroom_ and a library that took the entire second floor of the East wing. The furniture were made of the most expensive materials, the carpets were Persian apparently and Harry was sure he wasn't hearing correctly when Sirius apologized for the mess. Mess! What mess? Were the windows supposed to shine and did the have to eat from the floor? To the later, his godfather had replayed that yes, they should be able to eat from the floors even if the mere idea of doing something was ridiculous.

In retrospect that comments should have tipped Harry off. And if not, his rooms should have been a good enough hint. Harry was given quarters at the West wing on the third floor. There was a spacious bedroom, a bathroom, a study and a walk-in wardrobe.

"Isn't that a bit too much?" Harry had asked eyes wide add full of wonder, voice filled amazement.

"I am the Lord Black and this is all mine," he had replayed with a dismissive shrug. "I can do as I please and you, Harry, are my only godson, so if I want to spoil you rotten and show you the life you were born into, then I shall," it was nice hearing something like that. No one had ever said they wanted to do something, anything for Harry and the boy had to turn his head, so Sirius wouldn't see the tears in his eyes and think his a crybaby.

"You don't need to do that," he had whispered then, afraid to speak louder, lest the older man pick up the shaking of his voice.

"But I want to," at that point a large warm hand settled on his left shoulder.

"Why?" he didn't understand. He knew that Sirius was his godfather (and legal guardian now) but Harry would have been happy just to get away from the Dursleys, such luxury really wasn't necessary.

"Because you deserve it. I know that growing up with those _Muggles_," he spat the word like a curse, "thought you not to expect anything but they are pitiful creatures, filled with envy and greed," the hand on his shoulder nudged him and made him turn around so he would look directly at those orbs of melted silver.

"You are worthy more then the three of them combined, don't ever doubt that. you will never see them again, I can promise you that. I am sorry for not being there for you…"

"It wasn't your fault!" Harry was quick to interject. Sirius only smiled sadly.

"It is. I should have been more careful, but let the bygones be bygones and Uncle Alphard used to say. Dwelling in the past will do is no favors. I want to know that I will do everything I can to protect you, to raise you and to erase the memories of the Muggles. You deserve this, all of it and even more. I love you Harry, I loved you from the first moment I held you in my arms and when James and Lily named me your godfather and I felt the bond between us was one of the happiest days in my life."

"Bond?" what did he mean, Harry couldn't help but wonder. Besides, it was easier to ask for clarification of something, rather that concentrate on the sentence before it.

Sirius smiled sadly and with his right hair, he brushed the stands of hair that fell into Harry's eyes.

"The magical bond between a godparent and their godchild. It's strong, so strong that it is only second to the one between the biological parents and child," Harry nodded in understanding, though he didn't really understand anything. His godfather obviously picked it up because he smiled again and ruffled his hair.

"I'll explain later. Now, you need to set up. If you need anything, anything at all, just call for Dizzy. She is your personal house elf. And if the rooms aren't to your liking we can always change them. The manor is huge and the entire third floor is composed of different chambers. I'll come back in a couple of hours and then we can go to Diagon Alley and get you some new clothes and whatever else catches our fancy," with that Harry had been left alone in the huge room.

It was a nice room, though, very nice. It was sparklingly clean the furniture were brand-new. The bed was almost twice the size of his in Hogwarts and much softer. The sheets were made of silk or something as equally soft.

The walk-in wardrobe was a bit too much and the bathroom was way too big for one person. The study was rather nice. Unlike the bedroom, it wasn't decorated in pale blue and green but in soft red and golden, not bright enough to give him a headache but distinctive enough to remind him of Gryffindor tower of home. This place felt like home too, in a way. It was probably because of Sirius, the first adult to voluntary help him without any other agenda and the first person to say that they loved him.

The best part of the rooms was the balcony. It was huge with a table and two comfortable-looking chairs in the left corner. The doors took over almost the entire wall and were made of glass. Thick blue curtains were there to prevent the sun from entering the room but otherwise there was nothing to hide the magnificent view from Harry: acres of forests and glittering waters of various ponds and lakes. But above all was the vast Quidditch field a hundred meters from him.

That same afternoon Sirius had taken Harry shopping. They had went to a clothe shop called 'La Belle' which apparently catered only to the elite of the society, or at least that was what Sirius had whispered in Harry's ear before entering it.

There his godfather had told the clerk that he wanted a full wardrobe for his godson. A full wardrobe included several everyday robes, at least three dress robes (all embroidered with the Potter family crest and since when did Harry have one), several tunics, leggings (though Harry would never were those), trousers, travel cloaks (two, both with the Potter crest), belts, sashes (for the tunics), different pairs of shoes, boots and sandals and an acrumantula jacket (a type of big poisonous spider and only the riches had one of those).

They had exited the shop three (_three!)_ hours later and Harry was wearing a simple short-sleeved blue tunic with grey geometrical patterns and a black sash tied around his waist, black pants shoes in some unidentifiable dark color.

They had spent the rest of the afternoon walking around Diagon Alley and going in every single store, so Sirius could buy something he would never need. It was strange that no one seemed to notice them but when Harry had voiced his confusion, his godfather had smirked and said that a Marauder always knows how to stay hidden in plain sight.

Unfortunately, the rest of the month wasn't as fun at that first day. Sirius was the Lord Black and Harry would inherit the title of Lord Potter in two years, so that meant that his godfather would make sure Harry knew what to do then. Latin and French lessons (the language spell helped with that a lot), dance lessons (the dancing instructor was some pureblood witch with a non-nonsense attitude), calligraphy lessons (because Harry's 'scribbles could not be called writing'), etiquette lessons (from how to properly hold a spoon to how to walk), fencing lessons, history lessons, lessons in economics, in politics and genealogy lessons.

It was no wonder that between all of this Harry barley had the time to write to his friends, let alone see them. Sirius did give him several hours a day off in which Harry was free to do, as he liked for as long as he didn't do anything that his father or godfather wouldn't have done his age.

"And that limits my freedom how?" the teen had asked the first time Sirius had given him that particular advice. The older man had only shrugged his shoulders and carried on reading the German newspaper.

"Not by much. Just don't start a blood feud, please."

"I'll try," he had flooed to the Weasleys with Sirius' bark-like laugh on the background.

* * *

"Your birthday is in a couple of days," Sirius said as he was calmly sipping from his tea (Earl Grey, highest quality) in perfect French. By now, Harry could understand French perfectly but his grammar and pronunciation still needed work. However, without the spell he would still be at the alphabet. If anyone asked, that was the only reason he didn't answer immediately.

"So it is," he murmured a full minute later. He had honestly forgotten about that. It wasn't like his birthdays had ever been anything special. His eleventh was different, but that day was special for many other reasons.

"You forgot," Sirius was too amused for the teen's liking.

"I didn't!" and wasn't it sad that he couldn't even lie properly anymore. All that talk about Potter's honor must be getting to him. "I didn't… I just didn't realize that today was the twenty ninth," he had been so busy the last few weeks that it wasn't a surprise. When had the time passed so fast? And wasn't it ironic that for the first time in his life he didn't feel like going to school? In the past three weeks Black manor had become his home.

"Well, I didn't," did he have to emphasize on the 'I' so much? And what was that grin? Harry felt the small hair on his back bristle, on thing he had learnt was that this grin never, ever, meant anything good for him, never.

"Sirius, what did you do?" Harry asked carefully.

"Nothing bad, don't look so scared!" as if Harry would buy that fake innocent look. "Honestly, I swear on my honor, it is nothing bad or harmful or embarrassing."

"Then what is it?"

"I organized a I small gathering to celebrate your birthday."

"A small gathering?"

"You know, your closest friends, the Quidditch team, your entire year, several cousins..."

"And you call that small?" Sirius was mad, he was completely and totally bonkers.

"You know most of them, don't you?" well yes, but that wasn't the problem. "And this is nothing compared to some of the balls and parties you will attend in the future. I had to invite Cousins Narcissa and Lucius, it wouldn't be proper otherwise, and the entire Greengrass family, the eldest daughter is in your year, Slytherin, Amelia Bones will come with her niece, Susan Bones, and several others old acquaintances from the high circles. We'll be having tea in the Solarium and you'll have the entire first floor and the grounds."

"So this gathering is…"

"A picnic, of a sort," Sirius' grin couldn't be wider. Harry wanted to be mad at him for throwing a party behind his back and inviting the Slytherins on it (and their parents) but he found out that he couldn't. This would be his first ever birthday party and while Sirius was going to use it for political alliances (and would strongly suggest that Harry too) he was going to enjoy it at its fullest. Knowing his godfather, he ought to have planned this for weeks.

"I have no say in the matter, do I?"

"Nope," a hand ruffled his hair again. Harry scowled, he liked that, he really did, but Sirius only made his hair messier and wilder. "Cheer up, pup, it's going to be great. And think of all the presents you'll get. No pureblood would shame their family by buying something cheap or useless. And you are the Boy-who-lived, getting you something nice is a requirement," it wasn't like he needed anything. He had everything: clothes, food, books, a superb broom, room several times bigger than his previous one.

He did have to hide a smile behind his teacup, though. It wouldn't be good if Sirius saw the ridiculously large grin that was threatening to appear.

It didn't occur to him until later that they had talked the entire afternoon on French.

**VII**

If someone had told him a month ago that he'd be attending Harry Potter's birthday party he would have laughed at their face, hexed them for suggesting something so stupid and carried on laughing for the rest of day. A lot could change in a month, apparently.

His mother, for once, looked a little happier. Narcissa Malfoy was a beautiful witch, who looked more like a Rosier than a Black and preferred to spent her free time ridding the family Pegasi or playing the piano. Draco could remember sitting next to her on the piano bench and listening to songs that brought tears in his eyes. No matter how many times she smiled and laughed, there was this air of melancholy around her, an air that had lifted a little this summer. She seemed happier than ever.

His father had explained to him that it was because of her cousin, the escaped convict Sirius Black. Since most (if not all) members of her family were dead or in Azkaban, cousin Sirius was pleasant change for her. Four years younger than her, the two had spent the last two years before she went to Hogwarts together, playing games and learning spells. Her other cousin, Regulus, had been too young to join them, and thus, Sirius Black had become one of Mother's favorite people.

However, upon arriving at Hogwarts, he had been Sorted in Gryffindor and befriended Mudbloods and blood traitors and started rebelling against everything Black. By the time of her wedding, Sirius had alienated himself from the family so much that he had barley spared a smile at her and a muttered 'congratulations'. Less than a year later he had run away from home and never looked back. Then the war had broken out and things went downhill from there.

Now, however, he was free and willing to reconnect with his family and old acquaintances. He and Narcissa had visited the Club several times and she looked happier each time.

Father hadn't changed much, though he smiled more, when he saw Mother happy. Regardless of everything, his parents were in love with each other and Father practically worshiped the ground Mother walked on.

The most unexpected and surprising change, however, wasn't in his family or immediate circle. It was in Harry Potter. Cousin Sirius was his godfather and as such had taken Draco's school nemesis under his wing. At the beginning of June ha had set invitations for his godsons' birthday celebration to more people than the Golden Boy probably knew. No one had refused his or hers invitation to Draco's knowledge.

About a week ago, when he and Mother had been sitting in a café on Diagon Alley, she had pointed him Cousin Sirius and Harry Potter. Draco was proud to say that his mouth did not drop open, though it was a near miss.

Sirius Black was a rather handsome man with long black hair and the sharp Black features his mother shared. In the distance, he was unable to see his eyes, but from what he had overheard in the years, they looked like molten silver and many witches of various ages had fallen in love with them. He walked with his head high and back straight, like every other pureblood sure of his standing and superiority. Elegant day-robes enlaced his figure in a very flattering way. The man looked decay younger (a trait shared by all Blacks apparently, since his mother didn't look even remotely close to forty), in his mid-twenties and had an easy smile on his face.

What caught Draco's attention, however, was the boy next to him. He was around his age with black hair that brushed his shoulders and posture similar to Cousin Sirius'. He wore a simple red tunic with silver designs and blue pants. The cloths were top-quality and he looked perfectly at ease in them. He was conversing lightly with the Black Lord and for a brief moment, Draco saw the stunning Avada-green eyes not hidden behind glasses.

"Sear had done a great job with the Potter boy, hadn't he?" his mother had whispered in his ear then with an amused smile.

"That is Potter?" Draco had been unable to hide his surprise but somehow had managed to keep his voice down.

"He looks remarkably like his father from here. Of course, James Potter wore his hair a little shorter and was a little taller but from here one can almost think that the Potter Lord is still alive."

"Does," Draco had watered his dry lips here, "does cousin Sirius confuse them?"

"No. I spoke with him; their personalities couldn't be any more different apparently."

"How so?"

"I am not sure. Growing up with Muggles hadn't done Heir Potter any good and no one had bothered to explain our world to him. Poor boy," here she had smiled. "Though, he is hardly poor."

The conversation played out several times in Draco's head while he was getting ready for Potter's party. In the invitations said that it was semi-formal, so he had opted for wearing a light green tunic and a silver short-sleeved outer robe with black embroidery and with the Malfoy crest on it. His parents were invited for tea, so the three were to depart in a few minutes together. Draco smoothed his hair one last time before exiting his room ignoring the 'You look absolutely delicious, sweaty!' comment from the enchanted mirror.

The Malfoy family flooed directly to Black manor's foyer and Draco took a discreet look around. The room was clearly made to impress with its paintings, expensive furniture and carpets and marble floors. It was bigger that the Malfoy manor's and every bit as intimidating and impressive. The two had been built around the same time so that was probably the reason.

Potter and Lord Black stood next to the fireplace, as it was proper, to greet the guests. Cousin Sirius looked every bit the lord he was with his dark purple outer robes, black vest and black trousers. The Black Lord's ring rested on his right index finger and the onyx stone shone with an eerie light.

Next to him, Potter wore similar attire to Draco's (it was the current trend, so most of their peers would have clothes like theirs) with the same ease Draco did. The teen in front of him looked nothing like the one from a month ago. This one stood straight with lifted chin and a small half-smile on his lips. He looked confidant and at ease, unlike the somewhat skittish boy with low self-esteem from before. The scarlet tunic looked great with his pale complexion and somehow managed to bring out his eyes. The lack of glasses was probably helping as well.

"Lord Malfoy, Lady Malfoy, Heir Malfoy, it is my honor and pleasure to have you in my humble abode," cousin Sirius said in his deep baritone and shook Father's hand, kissed Mother's and shook Draco's.

"The pleasure and honor is all ours, Lord Black," Lucius answered with the typical greeting and turned to Potter. The teen gave his father a half-bow (way more gracefully that Draco had ever thought he would) and like his godfather kissed Mother's hand after she extended it.

"Lord Malfoy, Lady Malfoy," he murmured and turned to Draco, "Heir Malfoy."

"A most happy birthday, Heir Potter, and may you are blessed countless more," Draco dutifully repeated his father's words and offered Potter his present (a silver pendant with a ruby in the middle, charmed for protection). Potter smiled with that fake smile Draco had known his entire life ('Potter probably things he looks sincere,' he thought snidely) and took the packet.

"Thank you," he said and gave the present to a house elf that had appeared. "The other guests are all here, shall we go to the garden?" so they were the last ones. Draco spared a quick glance to the old grandfather clock, six minutes to five, and suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. Potter's birthday celebration was more important than what he had previously thought if everybody else were already present.

"Yes, we shall. Father, mother, Lord Black," Draco nodded to the adults.

"Uncle Sirius, Lord Malfoy, Lady Malfoy," Potter said with even and controlled voice and lack of fidgeting. That was surprising, Draco couldn't remember a time Potter hadn't been jumpy or nervous or capable of staying still.

"Heir Malfoy, Harry," cousin Sirius (calling him Lord Back in his head seemed a bit too much, considering that they were related) bid them leave. The two boys bowed one more time before heading for, what Draco thought was the exit. "The house elves have set up the Solarium for the afternoon tea," the teen heard cousin Sirius says to his parents but before he could overhear more of the conversation the two left the room and Potter turned to him.

"The Most Honorable and Ancient House of Potter formally apologizes for the involuntarily insult inflicted on the Most Noble and Ancient House of Malfoy three years ago and every slight since then," his voice was formal and dethatched and his eyes, which were gazing directly into Draco's, were closely guarded. Potter lifted his right hand and outstretched it to Draco. "I would be honored if we are re-introduced," Draco looked at Potter's hand and for a moment wanted to reject the offer and the apology but he knew he shouldn't. After Grandfather had stepped down at the beginning of the summer and Father had become the Lord Malfoy he was the Heir, so his actions reflected on the House of Malfoy more than ever.

"The Most Noble and Ancient House of Malfoy accepts your gracious apology and would agree to forget our previous interactions. Heir Potter, it is a pleasure to meet you," he said and took Potters hand.

"Heir Malfoy, the pleasure is all mine," Potter said as he shook his hand. "Now, how has your summer been?" the tone was neutral and the face - impassive. Draco was reluctantly impressed, Harry Potter from a month ago would be gritting his teeth by now and trying to curse him. This one wasn't even holding a wand.

"Fine. I spent a week in the villa at the French Riviera. Yourself?"

"Busy," Potter replied with a shrug of his shoulders. "Sirius has been trying to cram a lifetime worth of knowledge in my head for a few weeks, not exactly the definition of fun."

"But you aren't complaining," it was a statement, rather than a fact but Potter still answered.

"Merlin, no," he breathed. "It's amazing," the smile he gave Draco was genuine this time, vibrant and full of hidden laughter. If this was what Potter looked like when with someone he didn't hate, suddenly the early arrival of the guest made much more sense. Harry Potter was one of those rare people who could make others like them and drew them in as the flowers in the greenhouse drew bees and flies. One had little choice on the matter.

"The Black Manor is a site to behold," not like Malfoy manor obviously.

"Ridiculously large and disgustingly extravagant you mean," Potter said and pointed at an ancient-looking tapestry of a rose garden on their left. Even from the briefest glance Draco could tell that the threads used for it were made of some magical animal and the person who had made it had been a one-in-a-life-time genius. Not many could create something so beautiful.

"You get used to it," Draco replied. "By the end of the summer you won't notice it."

"Probably. Oh, here we are," the massive mahogany and steel doors opened up for them and for a second Draco was blinded by the sunlight. Then he realized it wasn't the sun but the reflected light from one of the many mirrors and balloons. There was a large wooden platform in the middle of the lawn and the pillars were covered in mirrors and shiny golden balloons. The white canvas that served as a roof was floating several inches above the pillars.

Many were dancing on the tune of Flowers of Edinburgh and the platform was filled with swirling color dots. There was a tent not too far away from the stage, in which Draco could see several different tables with food and drinks. Chairs and tables were scattered everywhere on the perfectly kept mown, some of then were shadowed by a floating canvas while others were near the tree line.

"Shall we go mingle, then?" Potter asked with a sly grin, the type that either really didn't suit him, or fitted him way too much for Draco's comfort.

"I suppose we shall," the Malfoy heir said with pretend boredom. Potter seemed to pick it up, though, if the smirk sent his way was any indication.

The two heirs separated soon with Potter stopping to talk with Susan Bones and Draco heading to Daphne Greengrass. She was as radiant as ever. Her silky black hair was braded and she wore a stylish blue gown with red lace in flower ornaments. She was with Theo Nott and Blaise Zabini. The two boys had gone for outfits similar to Draco's (and Potter's) as had the majority of the guests. Well, except for a few who wore short-sleeved dress robes and several Mudbloods who had come in T-shirts and jeans of all things.

"Draco," Blaise was the first to notice him approaching. The Italian wizard had his usual arrogant smile and air of perfect indifference to the world.

"Blaise, Theo, Daphne," Draco greeted them and took a glass of wine from one of the floating trays and tasted it. It was sweat and had little to no alcohol in it. He took another sip, savoring the taste of his cool drink.

"Caribbean wine," a female voice said next to him.

"Hm?"

"The drink, it's Caribbean wine. There is little alcohol and it's quite tasty," Daphne elaborated.

"How did Potter managed to get one of those?"

"Lord Black is rather unconcerned about how much he spends on his godson, I believe," Theo said in his usual quiet voice. "Look around, this can't have been cheap."

It probably wasn't. Caribbean wine was among the most expensive drinks in Britain and Europe. Not to mention the small appetizers Draco saw on several of the flying trays, he doubted everyone knew what they were exactly.

"And did you see how much he's changed?" Blaise asked. "He is acting as a pureblood not the half-blood he is," Blaise dislike for everything remotely connected with Muggles was well known. There reason behind it – not so much. The more important families knew, of course, but the majority of their schoolmates just found him a bigot.

The truth was that a gang made of Muggles and Mudbloods when Blaise was four years old killed his father (birth father that is). The men responsible for the death or Iago Zabini were summarily caught and killed by his wife. However, she was going to be send in Azkaban for murder and the only way she could escape such fate was to marry the judge. He died less than a year later leaving everything to his wife. Since then Antoinette Zabini had married three more times and her current husband was not expected to leave long enough to see his stepson on Yule.

"I think he is really charming now. Especially after he got rid of those disgusting glasses," Daphne said and then, surprising the boys, actually giggled. Daphne Greengrass, the Ice Princess of Slytherin, giggled. "What?" she snapped, annoyed at the looks she had been receiving.

"Nothing," the three answered without missing a beat. An angry Daphne was not a good thing, not at all.

Before they could say anything else the music changed into some counter dance song and the girl grabbed Theo's arm and dragged him to the dance floor claiming that she 'absolutely love this song'.

* * *

About an hour later, Draco was having a blast while jumping up and down with the rest of his friends on a _Minotaur_'s song when he heard the shouting. The voices were too distant for him to distinguish but were obviously male and angry. Most of the people around him seemed just as perplexed about it. Who would start a fight in the middle of a party? And not just any party, but one about Harry Potter's birthday, which was great, as much as Draco hated to admit it. The food was delicious, the music was amazing, the drinks were to die for and there were enough people so one could safely say that they hadn't seen someone they didn't want to talk to.

Curiosity, as usual, got the better of him and Draco went to see what this was all about. Considering that the guests were all hormonal teenagers, it was not surprising that very few stayed to enjoy the song.

The shouts were coming from behind the tent with the food and the quarrel was between the so-called Golden Trio. Potter stood on the one side, face impassive and posture rigid, while Weasel the youngest and Granger stood on the other. Weasel's face was redder than his hair and was obvious that he had been yelling all along. His alms were clenched into fists and were that spit coming out of his mouth. Had he not heard about decorum? Granger's face, on the other hand, was getting paler and paler with every passing second. Potter had probably cast a muffling spell around them, because no one could make out the exact word said.

When the Weasel stopped to take a breath Potter said something harsh, judging by the flinch on the other two, and turned around. His Avada-green eyes were cold, colder than Draco had ever seen them. Granger said something as well, tears streaming down her cheeks making her even less attractive than she was in her yellow dotted white dress already. Which made Potter halt his step but he quickly resumed walking.

A second later Weasel yelled something that made Potter turn around. Weasel shut his mouth, then opened it again only to gape at his best mate. Potter was probably talking but Draco was unable to tell from this angle.

Whatever was happening however, ended when Potter turned again and walked calmly to where everyone else were gathered. He smiled at them and said something that no one could understand. Draco could see his lips moving and hear something resembling Potter's voice but no comprehensible words.

The other teen smiled apologetically, took out his wand and murmured an incantation.

"I am deeply sorry for that scene," he said in loud and clear voice there was no tremor, no hint of anger in it. Draco was very impressed. Now, only if he knew why the Trio was fighting. "Please accept my sincere apology and go back to enjoying the party. The cake should be arriving soon."

Seeing that the show was over, most of the gathered slowly returned back to their previous spots, huddled in groups and discussing the newest piece of gossip. Draco pretended to do the same but he and Daphne stayed behind to listen in Potter's conversation with the Irish Gryffindor.

"… all about?" the blond was asking eagerly.

"None of your business Seamus."

"Come on, mate, just tell me. Did the famous Trio split up?" yes, Potter, did you finally see what waste of space those friends of yours are?

"Famous Trio? Never mind, I don't want to know and no, we haven't. Just a bit of misunderstanding, that's all," a bit my arse.

"You call that 'a bit of misunderstanding'? I don't want to know what real fights are with you. Granger was crying and Ron looked ready to explode."

"You aren't getting anything else from me, mate."

For the next five hours, nothing of note happened. They danced some more, ate the delicious cake and went home. Weasel and Granger were suspiciously absent from the party and Potter's smiles seemed a bit forced. When he went to bad that night Draco couldn't help but wish that school started sooner, so he could observe Potter some more. In the back of his head he wished that the Golden Trion never made up, so he could become Potter's friend instead.

**IX**

Evangeline Black watched as her only son left for Durmstrang. In her mind she knew he would like it there and be happy, but she couldn't help but worry whether he'd be alright or not, would he miss anything and what if he wanted to go home or didn't want to leave the school.

Two large and strong arms embraced her from behind and pulled her to a muscular chest.

"He'll be fine," her husband whispered in her ear. "And when he comes back for Yule he will be full of stories about his adventures."

"But Yule is so far away," she said as she leaned back. Reg's lips found their way to her neck, kissed her softly on _that_ spot, the one that made her want to swoon, and turned her feet into mush.

"He will write, love," he assured her. His hot breath tickled her ear and she giggled softly. She felt his smile but instead of hitting him for it, she only snuggled closer to him. Only Regulus Black could get away with laughing at her. Only he could make her feel safe and turn her feet into a mush. She loved him for it.

When they first met, she was fourteen and still had her father's name Dalton. Evangeline Dalton was a rather vain and self-absorbed girl, with her chin high in the air and azure eyes cold as ice. Regulus was a year older and something just drew her in. Perhaps it was the melancholic air around him or perhaps (which was likelier) it was the scandal involving the Black family. Sirius Black, who was second in line for inheriting the Black fortune after his father, had run away from home a few months previously and his mother had wanted to disown him. The majority of the purebloods (from all Europe) agreed with her, if the teen didn't want to be Black than make sure he cannot use the name. However, both Lord and Heir Black had disagreed and refused to disown Sirius Black. It wasn't until much later when she learnt why.

"What are you thinking about, love?" he asked as he gently turned her around and lead her to the apparition point.

"The manor is going to be so quiet now," Sothis was a well-behaved child but he was boy and there was always some noise in the manor. Now it was going to become quiet and vast.

"We can always make another one," Regulus suggested and wiggled his eyebrows in his mock-seductive way she loved.

"Do you mean it?" another baby, oh how she wanted one. They had been too afraid to have a second child after Sothis. What if the British Ministry learnt about Regulus? What if the Dark Lord rose again and went after her husband? What if, what if… so many questions and concerns had prevented them from having another child. When Evangeline had found out that she was pregnant, she had felt terror and equal love for the unborn baby. When she had told Regulus he had kneeled in front of her, put is palm on her still flat stomach and looked up with happiness and wonder. They spent months worrying and after Sothis was born they didn't leave him out of their sigh for second in his first year. For a while that had been enough. He was there and alive and loved them. He was their most precious possession.

"Yes," his gaze was filled with passion and love.

"Yes?" she couldn't believe it.

"Yes!" she laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply not carrying that they were in public. He spun her around laughing as well and apparated them to the manor.

* * *

On the second week of September, Sirius came to visit them. The first time he came to them on that stormy night, he had been dirty, wet, so very thin, sick, with craze look in his eyes and desperate for help. His clothes were some rags that were covered in sweat, rain, dirt and things Evangeline didn't want to know. His hair was long, reaching past his waist, and was greasy and tangled. He also had a beard that had been much longer but had been cut shorter with some knife or a sharp rock. He looked pitiful.

He had looked at them with those crazy and sad eyes and begged for help. Regulus had caught him before he fell on the ground when his feet gave out. They had taken him to one of the guests rooms and spent the entire night trying to help him.

Sothis had somehow managed to find out about their 'guest' and had tried to find out more. For the entire week after that he had kept asking 'suitable' questions and dropping hints.

Now, more than a year later, the Sirius Black in front of them looked nothing like the ragged man from that stormy night. He wore expensive new clothes, his hair was clean and cut right after his chin, there was no beard or any sort of facial hair and he stood strong and tall.

"Sear," Reg exclaimed happily and hugged his brother. Evangeline smiled at them. Reg had spent years torturing himself over his brother's imprisonment. 'If only I had stayed in Britain, if only I hadn't left, I could have done something, anything, I could have, I should have…' he kept telling her over and over again.

"Reg," her brother-in-law smiled at him and hugged her husband with as much enthusiasm. The parted soon enough and he turned to her. "Eva, as beautiful as ever," he said and kissed her cheeks.

"As charming as ever," she replied with a smile. "We missed you in the summer, Sothis especially. You are his favorite uncle now, my brothers are quite jealous," she smiled to herself. When Jean and Gabriel had come to visit, they had been stunned when Sothis had announced that 'Uncle Sear is the best uncle ever'. Reg had taken them aside and explained the situation, which had left the two without words. Her family had know from the beginning that Leo Black was not who he was claiming to be but he had money and looks and charm and she was in love with him, so they had let it slide. Finding out the truth had been quite a shock but the twins had swore not to tell anyone.

"As they should be," Sirius had an easy smile now. If one didn't know where to look, they would never be able to tell he had spent twelve years in Azkaban. "And I apologize, but my godson needed remedial lessons in, well, everything."

"We understand. Family above all, right?" Reg said in a neutral voice. Evangeline fought the urge to bang her head somewhere. Would he ever let that go? Sirius apparently agreed with her and he didn't have qualms about voicing his opinion.

"It has been years, Reg, let it go," he stood up and went to her husband and placed a hand on his shoulder. Reg fidgeted a little but otherwise stayed at the same place. "You are my brother, my blood, but James was family too and I gave a blood oath to take care of his son if something were to happen to James and Lily."

"I, I just feel that one day you'll leave and not come back," Evangeline knew she shouldn't be listening to such private conversation but she couldn't look away. She saw Sirius smile sadly and lean in to kiss his brother's brow and then to whisper something in his ear. The relationship between the two brothers was so delicate and complicated. She could never understand it. They loved each other, it was obvious to anyone with two eyes, but to many things had happened between them that sometimes they didn't know how to act around each other. It was so unlike the almost symbiotic relationship her brothers and she shared.

Evangeline continued from sipping of her tea cup and waited for the moment to pass, so they'd go back to the nice conversation from before.

* * *

Sirius kept visiting them at least twice a week. The three went to restaurants, cafés, and long walks in Paris more often than not they were joined by some of Reg and Evangeline's friends. It was nice and normal. Sirius met with her family and they loved him. only Gabe and Jean knew he was Reg's brother not cousin of course. And everything went downhill on the first on November.

Sirius apparited to the manor early in the morning and he and Regulus locked themselves in the library discussing something. Evangeline felt more and more dread with each passing second. What was happening? She tried to distract herself by rereading Sothis' last letter and writing a replay.

They did not emerge until after she had answered her entire post, went out and finished her embroidery several hours later. Sirius looked as grim as he had been when he came and her husband looked… tired.

"What is it?" she asked no one in particular.

"Someone put Harry's name in the Goblet of Fire and he is the Forth champion. That combined with what happened on the Quidditch cup…" Sirius trailed off as he sat down on one of the velvet armchairs. He took the glass with whiskey Reg offered him with a thankful smile.

"It's bed, love, really bad. _He_ might be coming back. I heard rumors but… and my Mark seems to be getting darker with each passing day," Reg sounded just as tired as he looked like. "I don't know what to do."

"I spoke with cousin Lucius the other day; his Mark is getting darker as well. Most of the Death Eaters I know say the same. It's not a matter of 'if' anymore, it's a matter of 'when'".

'No,' she thought, 'not now, not when we are finally happy and safe, not when I…' Evangeline laid a trembling hand on her stomach. She had gone to a Healer when the two brothers were in the library and she had confirmed that Evangeline was five weeks pregnant.

"… worry," she snapped out of her musings and looked at her brother-in-law. He had a gentle smile and determination shone in his excusive grey eyes. "I won't let any harm befall the three of you."

"Four," she corrected him absentmindedly.

"What?" Regulus voice was controlled no emotion could be distinguished.

"The four of us, Sirius, you will protect the four of us," and she didn't mean to make it sound as if Reg was weak but she wanted him to stay home, safe and with their children and her.

She looked up and saw Sirius' face split up by a large smile.

"Congratulations!" he exclaimed and then patted Reg in the back. "You sly old dog, why didn't you tell me you were having another baby?"

"It was a surprise," her husband managed to say. He looked at her with those dark eyes, filled with adoration and love and for a second Evangeline felt that everything might end fine for all of them.


End file.
